


The Difference Between

by Daughter_of_the_Mountains



Series: Nadadel [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Another Sappy Tale, But There Probably Will Be Cuddling Next Time, Gen, Hugs, Love, No cuddling, oh no, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Mountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation with a friend makes Glóin wonder. Is it considered mandatory to call your gêmadad 'Da'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between

"Rënak, I don't mean to be rude, but why do you call your nadad 'Da'?"  
  
To his credit, Rënak doesn't take offence. He tilts his head in thought and thinks for a while.   
  
Rënak is the only one that Glóin knows who has had a gêmadad recently. His parents died when he was 36 years old, leaving him with his 72 year old brother for company. Rënak is now set to become 72 himself and has several nieces and a nephew already.   
  
"Well," says Rënak after quite some time. "He was all I knew after a while. And our da wasn't the kindest person."  
  
"Does he mind?"  
  
Rënak doesn't even have to think. "No." Quite proudly, he adds, "he always looks right pleased when I say it!"  
  
"Do all gêmadads get called 'Da'?"  
  
Rënak shrugs. "Dunno. Probably, if the nadadith respects and loves him enough."  
  
"I love my nadad."  
  
Rënak smiles. "Yeah, but respect is different to love."  
  
"No, it's not." Glóin insists. "Everyone loved and respected King Thrór!"  
  
Rënak throws back his head and laughs. "It is! You'll understand one day. Now, if you don't mind, I promised Da I'd meet him at the tailor's at noon. He's having a special coat made for me!"

* * *

  
  
"Nadad?"  
  
"Hmm?" Glóin places a hand on the pages his brother is reading. Óin's darker eyes flicker up. "Not only," says his nadad, "do you expect to be fed and watered and cuddled, but you seem to expect to be entertained as well!"  
  
"Not entertained!" Glóin protests. "Educated!"  
  
"Well, that's very unlike you. Do you feel unwell?"  
  
"No, just curious."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"I met Rënak today."  
  
"Oh, him! His brother is soon to be freed from his duty as a gêmadad, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes. Did you know he calls Rïnad 'Da'?"  
  
"I do." Óin puts his study-book to one side. "Sit down with me, nadadith, tell me what you are thinking."  
  
Glóin sits beside him. Óin pulls him closer and turns to look at him. "Well," the redhead says. "I asked him why he calls Rïnad 'Da'."  
  
Óin snorts. "Trust you to ask!"  
  
"I was curious! You said that it's good to ask questions!"  
  
 _"Educational_ questions, not personal ones!" Óin gives him a little hug. "What did he say?"  
  
"He said that Rïnad is like his father, 'cos his da died when he was so little. He also said that some nadadiths do call their gêmadads 'Da' because they respect and love them enough."  
  
Óin blinks. When his eyes open, he is looking downward. 

* * *

  
  
"Oh, nadadith."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oftentimes," Óin says gently, "this is true. But other times it _might_ be because the gêmadad is kinder and more loving than the zêadad."  
  
"You're....loving."  
  
"That's because I love you. And you love me too."  
  
"I... Do you think I respect you?"  
  
Óin pauses, gently holding his brother's hands. "Sometimes I doubt it. Like when you refuse to go to bed or when you eat the last of the shortbread. But then I remember what you said about how I am your hero and then I know that you do."  
  
"Nadad... Would you be upset if I didn't call you 'Da'?"

* * *

  
  
Óin smiles sadly. "No, I wouldn't. We _have_ a da. He was five foot and six inches in height and had a small fortune of steel beads in his hair, the colour of which was as vibrant a red as yours."  
  
"Was Da truly this tall?"   
  
"Indeed!" Óin grins. "It'd be just my luck if you grow to be his height! And what else was he?"  
  
"Soppy."  
  
"I think you mean 'gentle'." Óin teasingly corrects. "And he was! He was constantly hugging us, kissing our foreheads, ruffling our hair...especially you! No _wonder_ you have such untidy hair. It's because Da used to mess it up!"  
  
"He also wrestled with us."  
  
Óin laughs. Picking up the ruby-red glass vase on the table next to the sofa, he chuckles even more. "This. Gods, he despised it! Remember he grabbed Dwalin and 'accidentally' staged an impromptu wrestling match and the vase got smashed?"  
  
"And Mammy made him fix it!"  
  
Óin grins. "Yes, our da was as mischievous as you when he had a mind to be."  
  
"I'm not mischievous!"  
  
"Not at the moment." Óin says, his dark eyes twinkling. "I've no doubt that you have some wicked trick up your sleeve."  
  
"You are the silliest gêmadad ever to exist!"  
  
"And I have the silliest nadadith ever to exist!" Óin retorts.  
  
"Nadad!"  
  
Óin gently ruffles his hair. "Nadadith, do you love me like you love Adad?"  
  
Glóin looks startled. "I... I don't know, nadad..."  
  
"I mean, do you love me like I am your da?"  
  
"No." Glóin clears his throat. "I'm sorry, but I don't."  
  
"That's perfectly acceptable." Óin hastens to assure him. "I am _not_ your father. I'm your gêmadad, yes, but I am not Da. I'm not here to replace him. Nobody could ever do that."  
  
"Oh, nadad, do you ever wish that..I know it wasn't his fault, but do you ever wish that he..."  
  
"Fought harder? Absolutely. But when the soul breaks like his broke, it is a miracle that it can continue for even a week. He lasted several months and at the end of those months, he was _ready_ to go. He didn't _want_ to, nadadith, but he couldn't continue. He loved us very much, but it's rare that a Dwarf survives losing his One."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Óin sighs softly. "I don't know, brother. Matters of the soul aren't my strength."  
  
"Would Mammy have survived?"  
  
"T'is easier for a woman to survive. Mahal built them with greater resistance to such pain as they are the child-bearers."  
  
Glóin huffs at this. "I wish _we_ could bear children as well!"  
  
Óin roars with laughter. "Nadadith!! What a funny idea!"  
  
"I do! Why do _girls_ get to carry babies and not us?"  
  
"I promise you," says Óin, "that a woman would _gladly_ swap places with you when her time for giving birth comes!"  
  
Glóin pauses. "Is it truly so painful?"  
  
"The most painful thing that can be imagined!" Óin tells him.   
  
"Then why do some dwarrowdams have babies?"  
  
"I asked Mammy that once. She joked and said that both times she was with child was a mistake. But she did tell the truth. She said that I was a very welcome surprise and you were more...thought of. And she said that both times she was in labour, she was in such terrible pain that she went hoarse from screaming."  
  
Glóin flinches. "Poor Amad!"  
  
"That was exactly my response. I even apologised to her, but she wouldn't have it. She said that the second we were placed into her arms, the pain died down. It was _worth_ it."  
  
"That's why some women go through childbirth."  
  
"I believe so."  
  
Glóin settles beside him. "What did Da go through?"  
  
"Fear. He was scared when we were born. Childbirth isn't terribly safe. Blood loss, fever, stress, infection, exhaustion... Anything can happen."  
  
"Mammy was safe during our births. She lived through them."  
  
"She was very lucky."  
  
"Was." Glóin murmurs sadly.   
  
Óin strokes his hair. "Nadadith. I know she's gone, but she had a good life, didn't she?"  
  
Glóin nods. "I miss her and him. You remind me of them."  
  
"I do?"

* * *

  
  
"Yes," Glóin answers. "You have her hair and eyes and skin. But you are very much like Da."  
  
"Am I so strict?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"No I'm not!"  
  
Glóin grins up at him. "If you knew the answer..."  
  
"Don't get clever, it doesn't suit you!"  
  
"Better than it suits _you!"_ Glóin insists, smiling broadly. "Well, maybe you aren't so strict. Possibly."  
  
Óin hmmphs, but doesn't pursue this supposedly outrageous comment.  
  
"You are kind like him. You're gentle like he was and I love you as much as I loved him."  
  
Óin doesn't say anything. He smiles, his eyes unusually bright, and gives him a hug, almost lifting him off the sofa. "I love you too, my sannadadith."


End file.
